reмy leвeaυ. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
lepetitvoleur) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
exsiliumlogs2013-01-18 11:06 pm
lepetitvoleur) wrote in exsiliumlogs2013-01-18 11:06 pm
we must rearrange reality;
Date & Time: jan 19 and the week following.
Location: around the hold.
Characters: remy & open.
Summary: teenage thief awakens in post-apocalyptic wasteland and decides to make a profit. or, true life: lost children in exsilium.
Warnings: n/a.
Waking up had been disorienting, to say the least, and as the day wore on the sensation didn’t fade. He thought at first it might be some kind of test, some survival exercise, but it was far too elaborate and far too cold to have come from his family. His next thought was of the Assassins, and the great lengths they’d go to terrorize a Thief, but this was beyond their capability, too. So Remy was forced to admit that this was something far outside his understanding. Once he accepted that, he set to work.
The first day he spends ducking around corners and trying to stay hidden. It’s a mostly futile effort, considering how he’s dressed, and the fact that he knows nothing about the layout of the place he’s in. So he can be found, for the most part, hiding behind doors and darting between shadows. He doesn’t dare venture outdoors, because he’s sure that as soon as he does something horrible will happen, but he does manage to make quite a few rounds of the Hold itself. He’s skittish, when approached, and over-reactive—in fact, most every time he’s found there’s a card in his hand and a glow in his eyes before he stops to say hello.
The second is more adventurous, if not better entirely. Now, the most likely place to find him is swiping food from anywhere he can find it. That means—the shops in the city, the halls of the Hold, and, oh yeah, right out of your hands, if you happen to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. It’s a quick trick, one he’s been doing practically since he could walk, and so he doesn’t expect to be caught. But, then again, the past few days have been full of surprises.
A few days later, and he’s finally exploring the city for more than food raids. He looks ridiculous, wrapped in his older-self’s trench coat, which is far too long for him. He has the sleeves rolled up to the elbows and the thing drags behind him as he walks. He doesn’t seem to mind the rain, much, and moves with the same agility and performance as he always has and always will. But at this age he’s also got a nervous energy, stopping and taking things in, muttering under his breath, and even pausing to stare at passersby.
And so it goes. As the days go on he can be found just about anywhere, picking locks or asking questions, hiding his caginess and fear behind a lot of boyish charm. Feel free to find him wherever you may be, and hope that that doesn’t mean he’s either just blown up the door to your room or stolen the rug out from under your feet.
Location: around the hold.
Characters: remy & open.
Summary: teenage thief awakens in post-apocalyptic wasteland and decides to make a profit. or, true life: lost children in exsilium.
Warnings: n/a.
Waking up had been disorienting, to say the least, and as the day wore on the sensation didn’t fade. He thought at first it might be some kind of test, some survival exercise, but it was far too elaborate and far too cold to have come from his family. His next thought was of the Assassins, and the great lengths they’d go to terrorize a Thief, but this was beyond their capability, too. So Remy was forced to admit that this was something far outside his understanding. Once he accepted that, he set to work.
The first day he spends ducking around corners and trying to stay hidden. It’s a mostly futile effort, considering how he’s dressed, and the fact that he knows nothing about the layout of the place he’s in. So he can be found, for the most part, hiding behind doors and darting between shadows. He doesn’t dare venture outdoors, because he’s sure that as soon as he does something horrible will happen, but he does manage to make quite a few rounds of the Hold itself. He’s skittish, when approached, and over-reactive—in fact, most every time he’s found there’s a card in his hand and a glow in his eyes before he stops to say hello.
The second is more adventurous, if not better entirely. Now, the most likely place to find him is swiping food from anywhere he can find it. That means—the shops in the city, the halls of the Hold, and, oh yeah, right out of your hands, if you happen to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. It’s a quick trick, one he’s been doing practically since he could walk, and so he doesn’t expect to be caught. But, then again, the past few days have been full of surprises.
A few days later, and he’s finally exploring the city for more than food raids. He looks ridiculous, wrapped in his older-self’s trench coat, which is far too long for him. He has the sleeves rolled up to the elbows and the thing drags behind him as he walks. He doesn’t seem to mind the rain, much, and moves with the same agility and performance as he always has and always will. But at this age he’s also got a nervous energy, stopping and taking things in, muttering under his breath, and even pausing to stare at passersby.
And so it goes. As the days go on he can be found just about anywhere, picking locks or asking questions, hiding his caginess and fear behind a lot of boyish charm. Feel free to find him wherever you may be, and hope that that doesn’t mean he’s either just blown up the door to your room or stolen the rug out from under your feet.
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"You're in a place called Exsilium," she lets that hang for a moment. "It's in another world." And she stops there to allow that to sink in. If he lets it.
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"You from somewhere else too, den?"
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"Right. Many people here in this building-- the Hold-- are from different worlds."
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"Worlds... Like--fairy worlds, or Hell?" He says, blandly. He's not disbelieving, just skeptical. And then, more cautiously, "What's your name, anyway?"
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"Have you spoken to anyone else?" she asks. Maybe someone else has tried to give him the general spiel.
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"You a part a the war?"
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"Something like that." It's hard to explain, she finds she's telling herself than Remy.
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He rolls his eyes now, though. Not very mature at all. "It's dere problem, not ours."
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If their words are to be believed. There's been no proof yet-- but Kate doesn't take warnings or threats lightly concerning Gotham or well, her entire home world.
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"I know... but it's what's happening here." Kate sighs heavily.
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"I'm not gonna be anyone's weapon," he says out loud. Not soldier, but weapon. A strange distinction.
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Kate does hook onto the "weapon" mention. It does feel as if they are weapons as opposed to living, breathing beings in this place-- but for a kid Remy's age, it's jarring to hear. It sends an uncomfortable sensation down her spine.
"You don't need to be," she interjects softly. "There are people here who don't fight or do anything with this war."
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"I don't like doin' nothing, either," he mumbles.
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"Things, then."